Monument
He died with his money on;
In soft gardens where wealth
Is spent on stone reminders
For rotting bodies, he lies.
The elm and cedar bend with winds
Over nature's debt delayed.
A weathered angel stands
Leaning cold benediction.
Her outstretched hand
Has missing fingers.
Her pensive smile
Is wry with chinks.
Near his grave she daily wears away--
Dumb wonder to the children
Who gave her a necklace
Of green leaves.
Copyright © Jerrell Jones | Year Posted 2015
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